Katherine turned, to meet her grim-faced stepmother. “We heard you were there, one of the queen’s ladies,” Eleanor said angrily. “Are you a traitor to your father, then, Katherine?”
Katherine’s smile faded. “I am no traitor to my father!”
“No? You have become one of them—how clear that is!” Eleanor turned her back on her and marched into the house.
Katherine did not move. Although she had not expected a warm or friendly greeting from Eleanor, neither had she expected to be accused of betraying her very own father. And was Eleanor right? She had been enjoying herself immensely these past weeks, overwhelmed with thegoings-on of the court and the queen and those closest to her. Did that make her disloyal to her own father?
Katherine realized that Sir John had come to stand beside her. She did not want him to fathom how distressed she was, so she flashed a too-bright smile and hurried on into the house.
Gerald stood leaning upon a cane in the dimly lit dining hall. He was unsmiling. His gaze searched her face as she came forward. Katherine was afraid that he would also call her a traitor.
But he did not. “So the queen has taken you into her protection, Katie? That is good.”
Katherine almost swooned with relief. Instead she gripped his arm, wanting to embrace him. “You are not angry, Father?” She was aware of Helen coming into the room, carrying a basket that contained some refreshments from the queen.
“Not at all.” Gerald seemed about to say more, but then he spotted her servant. “Who’d you bring with you, Katie?”
Katherine half turned. “The queen gave me a maid, Father.”
Gerald nodded, then guided Katherine to the table. “I heard that Barry decided to break the troth.”
Katherine sat down, then watched her father maneuver himself painfully onto the bench. “Yes.” She heard the catch in her throat. “Hugh never cared for me. He only wanted an earl’s daughter and the expected dowry.”
Gerald patted her back. “’Tis the way of men and you should know it. Tell me about Desmond.” He leaned toward her, at once eager and impatient.
Katherine saddened even more. Images of the charred land around Cork and Castle Barry swept through her mind. “Oh, Father. There has been so much war.”
Eleanor burst from the kitchens with a serving woman, carrying a wood trencher herself, the servant bearing ale and mugs. “Aye, and all is burned to the ground, it is. Isn’t that right, Katherine?” She smacked the trencher of bread and cheeses down.
“Much is destroyed,” Katherine agreed.
“Askeaton?”
“I do not know. I was not allowed to go home. Liam told me the castle has been abandoned—that many of our holdings have been abandoned. ’Tis true?”
Gerald nodded.
“So it is Liam now?” Eleanor asked.
Katherine flushed.
Gerald shot Eleanor a dark glance. “And FitzMaurice? Have you heard aught of my conniving cousin? I am surprised he has not taken up residence in Askeaton himself!” Gerald’s fists were clenched.
Eleanor also jumped to her feet. “Have you heard that he styles himself the earl of Desmond?” she asked Katherine. She did not wait for her stepdaughter to reply. “I tell you, he is after your father’s land and his title, and if he raises himself high enough—he will force the queen to give him all that was once ours! While we are reduced to begging, myself reduced to serving the table like any common cupbearer!”
Katherine’s heart was wrenched in two. “I am glad the betrothal is broken,” she told her father fiercely. “How could I marry Barry when he consorts with FitzMaurice against you?”
“You are a good lass, Katherine,” Gerald said, but he was agonized. Abruptly he stood, leaning on his cane. “I am not hungry,” he announced. “I do need air. Katie, walk with me.”
As Katherine had already eaten with the other ladies, dining on the queen’s leftovers—which were designed to feed her household—she got to her feet. As they left the hall, Helen followed. Gerald turned and waved her away. “No need,” he said, his tone friendly. “Can you not help my wife in the kitchens, mistress?”
Helen nodded and turned to help Eleanor clear the table.
Outside, it was chill but sunny. Katherine and her father walked arm and arm in the courtyard, Gerald leaning upon his daughter. Katherine was aware of Sir John and the other soldiers guarding the front gate, pretending not to watch them. Gerald paused. “We cannot trust anyone, Katie,” he said.
Katherine looked at him. “Surely you do not have spies in your own house?”
“’Tis not my house, ’tis St. Leger’s,” he said. “But Cecil has spies everywhere—you can be certain of that.”
